Detergent
by fictionbefourblood
Summary: In sixteen year old Beadtris Dryer's world, society is divided into five fashions, each dedicated to a particular virtue, in an attempt to form a perfect society after a terrible fashion show. (A parody of Divergent by Veronica Roth.)
1. Chapter 1

**T**here is only one washing machine in my house. Our fashion only allows us to wash our clothes on the second day of every third month. I watch as my mother takes out the washing and wrings the clothes, water dripping onto the concrete floor. She is well-practised in the art of doing laundry. I can't say the same for myself. The other fashions wash their clothes often but we don't. It would be a waste of water.

They say the fashion show was terrible, that everything else was destroyed. Our founders built the belt to protect us and divided us into five fashions to keep the peace. Today is the day that I take the Appearance Test. I'm scared it will tell me that I'm not Abnegucci and that I will have to leave my family, but I'm even more scared it will tell me that I am and I have to stay and learn to do the laundry.

"Are you nervous?" My mother asks me, as I help her hang up the clothes.

"Nope." It's a good thing I'm not Candior because I'm a terrible liar. Tomorrow at the Clothing Ceremony, we get to choose from five fashions. Candior, they are the honest. If you ask a Candior "Does my butt look big in this?" they will answer you honestly. Then there's Erodarte, the intelligent. They know how to make the clothes. Armanity, they are the kind and farm the land to provide cotton. Then, there's Dauntlouis Vuitton, the brave. They hardly wear any clothes. My fashion is Abnegucci, the selfless. We wash dirty clothing and give some of ours away to the Fashionless.

"Thank you for washing my clothes mom," I say, kissing her cheek because I don't know if I'll get to do it again. My mother is so beautiful, but the dull grey of our dirty clothing does nothing to compliment her beauty.

On the way to school, the bus smells of soap powder. It is cramped and full of people from Abnegucci and Candior. For my brother Cleanleb, being Abnegucci has always been easy for him. He inherited my mother's talent of selflessness, giving his coat to a Candior man on the bus. They only wear black and white but accept grey clothing because it's a mix of both. As we go further into the city, I can see the Peg emerging, a tall black skyscraper that looks just like it sounds. Erodarte are the only ones who own cars and I have never been on a train. Only the Dauntlouis ride trains. My father says they ride trains in their underwear because no one can see them. I'm not sure if that's true.

"Appearance Test today," I tell Cleanleb as we walk the halls to class. We will probably not walk these halls again once we choose tomorrow at the Clothing Ceremony.

"You aren't worried?" Cleanleb and I will choose together. He is a little older than me but we are in the same year at school.

He doesn't seem fazed. "Are you?" Suddenly, I feel stupid to have asked. Cleanleb will choose Abnegucci, I am sure of it.

"Nope," I lie again, as we part in the corridor. I walk towards Fashion History. The corridor is unusually packed. I assume people are stressed, excited, nervous even, about the tests later.

"Out of my way Sniff!" A Candior boy bumps into me. That's what the other fashions call us, 'Sniffs." Apparently we smell because we don't wash our clothes so much. Well, I'd rather smell of natural body odour than Persil. At exactly 7.25, the Dauntlouis prove their bravery by jumping off a train and arriving to school in style. They bear piercings and tattoos on every inch of their skin that they expose, and they expose a lot of it. Their fashion values courage and I understand why when I sneak a peek at a Dauntlouis girl frantically putting on a skimpy black dress over her black bra and panties just before she jumps off. I have always been drawn to the Dauntlouis, so brave and free.

As I enter Fashion History, I think about what Cleanleb told me, "Trust the test Beadtris." Trust the test. The test will tell me who I am and where I belong, something I have wanted to know for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey guys, I just wanted to say thank you for reviewing and fav/following this story. These next two chapters aren't the best but I really wanted to update so I hope you enjoy them.**

**T**he Appearance Tests will be taken after lunch. Cleanleb and I are sitting next to each other in the canteen with our neighbour Sewsan opposite us. I wish I was more like Sewsan. She is so calm and then there's me with my clothes sticking to my skin with sweat. The rules say that we are not allowed to be tested by someone from our own fashion or prepare for the test in anyway so I do not know what to expect, hence I have every right to be so nervous. Across the canteen, the Dauntlouis are shouting and fighting each other, the Erodarte have their heads buried inside books, the Armanity are sitting in a circle on the floor singing songs, and the Candior seem to be engaged in a debate. On the Abnegucci table however, we are sitting quietly waiting to hear our names. Cleanleb is called next, and he gets up and walks towards the testing rooms. I don't wish him good luck because he knows where he belongs. He's always known, unlike me. When we were little, he had scolded me for not giving my hat to a little Fashionless girl in the winter. He didn't understand that I couldn't give it to her because it was my favourite hat. I wouldn't have given my coat to the Candior man on the bus either. I don't think like that, because I am not the same as Cleanleb. It's so easy for him, and I just wish that it was easy for me. After ten minutes, Cleanleb comes back and sits down. He is as pale as the soap powder my mother uses to wash the clothes. But I know that he can't share his results with me, and I'm not supposed to ask.

I am called in the next round of names, "…And from Abnegucci, Beadtris Dryer and Sewsan Rack." As Sewsan and I walk to the testing rooms, I wonder if people from other fashions can tell us apart. We are wearing the same clothes and our hair is tied the same, but Sewsan is a lot prettier than me. There are ten rooms in this building that are only used for Appearance Tests. I walk into room 6. The rooms are not separated by walls, but by clothes of different colours to represent the different fashions. A Dauntlouis woman is waiting for me. She is wearing all black and has a tattoo of underwear on the back of her neck. I wonder if it signifies something. In the centre of the room, there is a chair. She tells me that I should sit in it and get comfortable. "It doesn't hurt," she says, "My name is Tailori."

"Why do you have underwear on your neck?" I accidentally blurt out.

"You're curious for an Abnegucci," she replies, "I figured that if I ever forgot to wear my underwear, then I'd still have underwear on me." I suddenly find myself looking in the wrong places, trying to figure out if she is wearing underwear today. "Don't worry," she says, "I didn't forget today." She connects me to a computer with wires and then passes me a vial of washing up liquid "Bottoms up."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Just trust me," she replies.

"Trust the test," I say as I down the liquid in one. It tastes horrible and bubbly, and then my eyes close. When they open, I am somewhere else and I am all alone. On the table, there is a pile of clothes and a hammer. A voice echoes in the room. "Choose," it says.

"Why?"

It doesn't reply so I look around the room but no one is there. The clothes and hammer suddenly disappear. A giant washing machine appears and it looks angry. It's making gurgling noises that resembles the growl of an angry dog. I remember learning something in Biology about the smell of fear making dogs attack. I wonder if it's the same for washing machines because I smell of soap powder and maybe that's why it's attracted to me. I don't run from it or try to fight it. Who even fights a washing machine? The pile of clothes would have kept it happy and the hammer would have destroyed it but I'm too late in realising this. Suddenly, the door of the machine bursts open and millions of evil soap bubbles begin to pour out. I sink to my knees and let the evil soap bubbles consume me but then I hear giggling and open my eyes to see the washing machine smiling and dancing. I blink and another machine appears, much smaller than the first. I know washing machines can't talk but I swear I hear it shout "Your washing machine is so fat that instead of washing the clothes, it ate them!" This seems to anger the bigger washing machine who starts to run after the smaller one. I know washing machines can't run either but I swear these ones have legs. Without thinking, I run and jump onto the big washing machine praying that the force of the fall won't hurt my boobs because I don't have a padded bra on. Abnegucci don't wear padded bras because it's selfish to think about the safety of your breasts. I sink into the ground, and the washing machines are gone. I'm going to have nightmares about washing machines for the rest of my life.

I am now in a shop and a girl is trying on some clothes. She steps out of the fitting room and asks me "Does my ass look fat in this?" The dress she has put on is too tight for her and her butt looks like a watermelon. I know that if I say yes, she will be angry with me and if I say no, she will also be angry with me when everyone else tells her that her butt looks big. I am not sure which response I should give her so I just stay quiet.

This is just a test.

It's not real.


	3. Chapter 3

**I** wake up in the testing room and Tailori is there, looking at something on the computer screen. I wait for her to say something, to tell me my results, but she doesn't.

"That was perplexing," She finally says, breaking the silence, and then walks out of the room. I realise that I have failed. I have failed a test that I haven't prepared for and I am going to be Fashionless and live a life with no purpose.

Tailori comes back into the room. "Your results were inconclusive," she says, "Each stage of the test is supposed to eliminate a fashion but you only eliminated two out of four."

She stops to look at my confused face and then continues, "You didn't choose the pile of clothes or tell the girl that her butt looked big so you ruled out Armanity and Candior." She takes a deep breath. "Then, you saved the little washing machine making you Abnegucci, and not running away was Dauntlouis and you applied the knowledge of a dog which is Erodarte."

"So what the hell am I?" I ask, frustrated.

Tailori says the next thing quietly as if it's a secret to be shared only between us. "The test didn't work on you. You don't fit into a category. They call it Detergent. It means you deter from the norms of society. Don't tell anyone. Detergence is extremely dangerous and can get you killed." I don't understand what she is saying but I nod anyway. "Go home and think about it. Tell your parents you got sick."

"What am I supposed to choose at the Clothing Ceremony tomorrow? The test was supposed to tell me what to choose?" I yell at her because I thought I could trust the test.

"As far as everyone else is concerned, your result was Abnegucci. That's what I entered into the system."

On the way home, I can't bear to think about what I will choose at the Clothing Ceremony tomorrow. Abnegucci? Dauntlouis? Erodarte? I'm… Detergent. Instead, I think about Abnegucci, and how as an outsider, it is such a beautiful fashion. I fall in love with it when I see everyone work in harmony at our family parties but when I try to live it myself, it doesn't feel genuine. Choosing a different fashion will mean leaving my family for good, but staying in Abnegucci will mean living a life I cannot relate to.

There are places in the city that smell terribly of poop and when you smell it, it's not the public toilets. It is where the Fashionless live because they failed the initiation stage of the fashion they chose. They do the work no one else wants to do and it is only Abnegucci who notice them. I see a Fashionless man as I walk past that area and we engage in eye contact.

"Do you have any clothing to spare, my dear?" I give the man some spare clothes that I always keep in my rucksack because my father tells me too. This is so selfless of me. He takes the clothes and then tugs on my shirt, grabbing a fistful. "Do you have anymore? I'm sure you could take some of yours off." As I stare at him, I realise that he is very ugly. No wonder he doesn't have a fashion. I pull until he releases my shirt.

As I walk away, he tells me, "Choose wisely little girl."

I am not a little girl. I am sixteen years of age and tomorrow I will make the biggest decision of my life. Seriously, people underestimate me too much.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hey guys, thank you for your kind reviews once again. I honestly love writing this so I'm glad you love reading it just as much. I try to update as quick as I can but sometimes life just gets in the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave your review because I love to read them!**

**I** get home five minutes before I usually do so I walk around our little section of the city to pass the time. If I get home early, my parents might make me do some washing and I am not a laundry person. The houses on our street are all the same shape, size and colour. They are blocks of concrete, painted white, with a few windows and a rounded door. To other fashions, the Abnegucci live in washing machines. The lawns are scruffy and washing lines hang overhead holding up clothes and clothes and even more clothes. I find the sight quite cleansing. But, I struggle to love this way of life. I sit on the front step and wait for Cleanleb. He doesn't take long.

"Beadtris!" He says when he sees me, "What happened?"

"Nothing," I mutter, "I'm fine." He is with Sewsan and her brother Robe. They are all looking at me and I don't blame them because if we are not allowed to look at ourselves, then we are obviously going to look at each other. Still, it's quite uncomforting. I shrug, "I got sick. The washing liquid was funny but I'm okay now." Cleanleb doesn't seem convinced.

"We should get going," says Robe, pulling Sewsan by her arm, "Our father told us we should spend some time thinking about the Clothing Ceremony. You should too." They disappear into the house next to ours. I get up and walk inside our own, and Cleanleb follows me.

My heart pounds from the mention of the Clothing Ceremony. I walk past a bottle of Detergent on the counter and jump back in fear, bumping into Cleanleb.

"Careful," he says.

"Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks. His eyebrows draw together so that a crease appears between them. God, he's getting old and wrinkly. "Are you going to tell me the truth? About your test?"

"Yes, well the truth is," I say. I'm freaking Detergent, I don't say. "You're not supposed to ask, Sniff."

"Beadtris Dryer, did you just call me Sniff?" He retorts.

"Yes, and you actually do stink. When was the last time you washed? Seriously, for someone called Cleanleb you're not very clean, you're just Leb."

His eyebrows tug together, and he bites the corner of his lip. I think I can see them quivering like he's about to cry. But then he says, "What was your result Beadtris?"

I narrow my eyes. "What was yours, Leb," I joke. I hear a train in the distance, so faint it could easily be wind whistling through the windows or Cleanleb doing a silent but deadly. But I know it when I hear it and don't smell anything foul. It sounds like the Dauntlouis, and they're calling me to them.

"Beadtris! Cleanleb!" My fantasy is interrupted by our mother calling us for dinner.

I just want to go upstairs and lie down. But it's my turn to cook today, which means it's also my turn to clean the dishes. I breathe deeply and walk into the kitchen to start cooking. Cleanleb joins me soon enough. I grit my teeth and stare him down for being so selfless and helping with everything. And then, dinner is ready and the table is set.

"How did the test go?" We are asked by our father at the dinner table.

"Fine," I say. I'm freaking Detergent, I don't say.

"I heard something happened with one of the tests," my mother says, as if questioning us. My mother is the most selfless person I have ever known. Most of the time, she organizes workers to help the Fashionless with food and cleanliness. I wonder if she was always Abnegucci.

I keep my head down. "Really?" says my father. A problem with the Appearance Tests is very rare. My mother just shrugs and I stay quiet whilst I shove peas down my throat but that silence doesn't last long when I accidentally choke on them. We have a particular way of eating in our house and fashion, that is too pass food clockwise in the direction a washing drum would spin. My father always gives thanks to God for food and work and friends and family and cleanliness.

While we eat, my mother takes my father's hand and moves her thumb in a small circle over his knuckles. I stare at their joined hands. They rarely show affection like this in front of us. They taught us that physical contact is powerful. I specifically remember my mother telling me one night, "Beadtris, don't have sex or you will get pregnant and die." I had no idea what she was talking about but I nodded to say that I understood because I don't want to die.

"Tell me what's bothering you," my mother says.

I didn't notice my father's deep frown and slumped posture but my mother did. I have always dreamt of being in a relationship where I could read a person like my mother reads my father.

"I had a difficult day at work," he says. "Well, it was actually Marcurtains."

Marcurtains and my father are both political leaders. The city is ruled by Abnegucci because our fashion is regarded as incorruptible due to our selflessness.

"Didn't that Jeans Hatthews woman release something about him?" my mother asks. Jeans Hatthews is Erodarte's leader. I know my father does not like her very much.

"Yes," my father says, "It was a report attacking his character."

I am curious so I ask, "What did it say?" Cleanleb shoots me a disapproving look.

"It said Marcurtains' violence and cruelty toward his son is the reason his son chose Dauntlouis instead of Abnegucci." I wonder if that is true. Few people who are born into Abnegucci choose to leave it. When they do, we remember. Two years ago, Marcurtains' son, Tiebias, left us for the Dauntlouis. I never met Tiebias since he rarely attended parties or came to our house for dinner.

My father continues after swallowing some mashed potato, "The Erodarte have been attacking us for months now. And this isn't the end."

I shouldn't speak again, but I can't help myself. I blurt out, "Why are they doing this?" I get another glance from Cleanleb and stare at my peas. I am not good enough to be Abnegucci.

"They are thirsty," my father answers. Maybe my mother should concentrate on supplying the Erodarte with food and water rather than the Fashionless. I know I will not choose Erodarte, even though my test results said I have it in me. I am my father's daughter and I will not be a backstabbing daughter or sis. I love my family too much to do that to them but probably not enough if I am considering leaving them.

My parents clean up after dinner and I do a little victory dance because I can't bear the thought of washing the dishes, cleaning them with… Detergent. They don't even let Cleanleb help them because we need to think about our results and the Clothing Ceremony. My family might be able to help me choose, if I could talk about my results. But I can't so I'm screwed. As Cleanleb and I part to go to our separate bedrooms, he stops me.

"Beadtris," he says, looking directly into my eyes. I assume he's trying to look at his reflection in my pupils because I do that to him sometimes. It's not my fault he's boring. "Tomorrow, we should think of the family but we must also think of ourselves." That is probably the most selfish thing he has ever said and I'm disgusted in him. I just say what I am supposed to say, something like "The tests don't have to change our clothes." But I actually mean that. For example, if I choose Dauntlouis, I'm not going to become a stripper.

I walk into my room, and close the door behind me and do what I don't want to do. I think about the Clothing Ceremony. It will require a great act of selflessness to choose Abnegucci, and a great act of courage to choose Dauntlouis. Everything else I have ruled out so I realise it is actually an easy decision. Tomorrow, those two qualities will struggle within me, and only one can win. Will I be selfless or brave? I know that I am both. I know that I am Detergent. And I think I know which fashion I will choose.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hey guys, thank you for your kind reviews once again. In response to one, about using Veronica Roth's words, it's because I use the actual chapters as a basis. I try my best to change the wording, add my own things, and I take a lot out as well. I hope that clears things up.**

**I thought I should update today because of the Insurgent trailer (which was EPIC!) So I hope you enjoy it. Also, I may not update for a month sorry. Life gets in the way sometime**s.

**T**he bus we take to get to the Clothing Ceremony is packed full of grey clothing like our washing machine at the end of each week. The clouds in the sky look like floating bubbles. I have never blown bubbles from washing liquid but we see some Candior blowing them when we get off the bus.

The Peg is a huge skyscraper and even when I tilt my head, I cannot see the top that dissolves into the cloudy bubbles. It is the tallest building in the city. I follow my parents off the bus. Cleanleb seems calm but I think I have peed my pants from nerves which sucks because if I don't choose Abnegucci today my mother won't do the washing anymore and I will have to wash my own knickers. My thighs feel warm and sticky, and my heart is thumping far too loudly. I have to grab Cleanleb's arm to steady myself as I walk up the front steps.

The elevator is also crowded and my father being selfless volunteers to give our place to a group of Armanity. I scan the corridors for a toilet but I don't see any signs. Oh crap. We climb the stairs instead, me trudging along slowly behind. We set an example for our fellow fashion members. We practically blend in with the grey cement stairs. The rhythmic pounding of feet in my ears makes me believe that I could choose this. But that thought is quickly interrupted by the waterfall that is soon to flow between my legs. I keep my legs tightly together and waddle the rest of the way. But then my legs get sore, and I become breathless, and I am again distracted by the need to urinate. I guess it could be worse. Brown stains on grey clothing do not go well together. We have to climb twenty flights of stairs to get to the Clothing Ceremony room.

My father holds the door open on the twentieth floor because he's so selfless. I would have just slammed it in their faces because I need to pee and when you need to pee you don't hold open doors for other people. I would wait for him, but the crowd presses me forward, and I really really really need to pee. Just before I enter the room in which I will decide the rest of my life, I see the little female sign one of the doors and sigh in relief. It gushes out of me like a fast flowing river.

The Clothing Ceremony room is arranged in circles, like 5 big washing baskets, one for each fashion. On the edges stand the sixteen year olds of every fashion. Our decisions today will make us initiates, and we will become members if we complete initiation. Sounds simple? Well it's not. And I just don't get how I'm considered mature enough to decide my life at sixteen years old.

We have to sit in alphabetical order, according to our last names so Cleanleb and I are right next to each other and near the beginning because we both have the D, for Dryer.

This year my fashion, Abnegucci, has the responsibility of conducting the ceremony and as leader Marcurtains will give the opening address and read the names in reverse alphabetical order so Cleanleb will choose before me. I may as well call it my fashion for as long as I can to ease the guilt when I leave it behind.

At the front of the room, there are five large bowls. Each one contains a substance that represents each fashion: grey concrete for Abnegucci, rich leather for Erodarte, cotton wool for Armanity, black lace for Dauntlouis, and plastic for Candior.

When my name is called, I will walk up to Marcurtains and take the needle that he offers. I will prick my finger with the needle and spill a drop of my blood into the bowl of the fashion I choose. My blood on the concrete. My blood on the daring black lace. I consider my options.

Before our parents sit down, they kiss us on the forehead, for me it is a kiss goodbye. I hear my father say to Cleanleb "See you soon," but he does not say the same to me. A lump forms in my throat.

My mother hugs me, and I try my best to push the lump down my throat but it is reluctant to budge. Instead, I clench my fists and stare up at the ceiling, where curtains drape from high above and spill the scent of lavender. My mother holds me for what feels like a long time, and before she pulls away, she whispers in my ear, "I love you. No matter what." I feel like I am going to throw up, and the lump is actually a brussel sprout that I had for dinner last night.

They know what I might do. They must know. I swallow the sprout.

Cleanleb grabs my hand, squeezing my palm so tightly it hurts, but I don't let go because if he squeezed tight enough maybe my blood would stop circulating and my fingers would fall off so I couldn't prick them. I can only wish.

The room slowly comes to order. Marcurtains stands at the front and clears his throat into the microphone. I wonder if he has a sprout lodged in his windpipe too. "Welcome," he says. "Welcome to the Clothing Ceremony."

Marcurtains goes on to explain the fashion system. "Decades ago, our ancestors divided society into five fashions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the fashion war."

My eyes shift to the bowls. What fashion will I choose? I do not know; I do not know; I do not know.

The Armanity are at the far end of the room. They are dressed comfortably, in bright colours that are supposed to reflect their bright personality. Every time I see them, they seem kind, loving, and free.

The Erodarte are next to them dressed in blue. Ruling them out was easy.

Then there's Candior. They seem okay. Actually, that's a lie and that's why I can't be Candior. I have never liked them.

Next to the Candior, is my fashion, the Abnegucci or known to everyone else as Sniffs. But I am not selfless enough to continue calling this my fashion. Sixteen years of trying and I am not enough.

Right at the end are the Dauntlouis bearing their skin and tattoos and piercings.

Marcus continues to talk and I wonder if his son left because he got bored of his father talking crap. Speaking of crap, I think I need the toilet again. "Working together, these five fashions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society." I think of the motto I read in my Fashion History textbook: Fashion before blood. More than family, our fashions are where we belong.

A silence lingers in the room. It is not one of those awkward silences, but a heavy silence filled with fear. Even the Dauntlouis, fearless, are scared. It is not death that we fear, but being Fashionless.

Marcus continues, "Therefore this day marks a happy occasion. Our new initiates will work with us toward a better society and a better world. The future belongs to those who know where they belong."

A round of applause breaks the silence. I try to stand completely still, because if my knees are locked and my body is stiff, I don't shake and won't accidentally shit myself.

One by one, each sixteen year old steps out of line and walks to the bowls. The first girl to choose decides on Armanity, the same fashion from which she came. I watch the white wool soak up the red droplet, and then the crowd cheers, mostly Armanity who chant something like Kumbaya.

The room is constantly moving, a new name and a new person choosing, a new needle and a new choice and occasionally a new fashion.

"James Buckle," Marcurtains says.

James Buckle of the Dauntlouis is the first person to walk awkwardly on his way to the bowls. Maybe he needs to pee. He looks from the Dauntlouis bowl to the Candior bowl. He breathes deeply as he pricks his finger. Then, he hovers it above the bowls and lets his blood fall onto clear plastic, and he is the first of us to switch fashions. The first transfer. The crowd gasp and mutter and exchange glances.

They will see him as a traitor from now on, just like Marcurtains' son. His Dauntlouis family will have the option of visiting him in his new fashion on Visiting Day, but they probably won't because he left them. That's how it seems to work. His absence will haunt their hallways, and he will be a space they can't fill. And then time will pass, and the hole will be gone, like when the washing is removed from the washing machine and it is empty. But washing machines can't tolerate emptiness for long and humans always fill them up again.

"Cleanleb Dryer," says Marcurtains.

Cleanleb squeezes my hand one last time, and he walks away. His hands are steady, unlike mine, as they accept the needle from Marcurtains. He pricks his fingertip and stands, blood ready to drop.

He inhales and exhales deeply as if he is having a hard time. And then he holds his hand over the Erodarte bowl, and his blood drips onto the rich leather, blending in black, as black as his soul.

I hear mutters that lift into outraged cries. I want to join them. My brother, my selfless brother, a faction transfer? My brother, a backstabbing bro?

Why didn't I realize that when he told me to think of myself yesterday, he was also giving that advice to himself? How did I manage to get Erodarte on my Appearance Test when I'm as thick as Cleanleb's eyebrows?

The Abnegucci whisper and glare across the room at the fashion that has become our enemy and I can see them judging Cleanleb as he goes to join them.

"Quiet, please!" Marcurtains shouts and the room goes silent.

I hear my name and my legs go stiff. Halfway to the bowls, I am sure that I will choose Abnegucci. I can see it now. I can see myself growing into my mother. I take a sneaky glance at Cleanleb and curse him under my breath as I walk the rest of the way.

If he wasn't fit for Abnegucci, how can I be? But what choice do I have, now that he left us and I'm the only one who remains? How can I do that to our parents?

I will be the child that stays; I have to do this for my parents. I have to. That's selfless right?

Marcurtains offers me my needle. I turn toward the bowls. Dauntlouis lace and Abnegation cement are next to each other. I hold the needle firm in my hand and touch the sharp point to my fingertip. It stings a little, but I barely notice. A drop of blood immediately forms on the surface. I hold my hand steady and try to breathe but I can't so I squeeze my eyes shut in fear that I am going to die at this very moment in this very spot.

But then the breath comes and when I open my eyes again, I thrust my hand out to let my blood drip onto the black lace.

I can hardly breathe. But I am selfish. I am brave. I am Dauntlouis.

"Fashion before blood," I whisper.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hey guys, new chapter! I'm sorry it's not great (I tend to write these in an hour.) I wanted to update this before the end of the year. I've been studying, but I made time to write this chapter today so I hope you like it. Also, if you want to read something more serious (and fluffy), feel free to read my little Fourtris scene, where they spend New Year's Eve together. Don't say I don't treat you! Happy New Year Initiates! I hope you all had a Merry Trismas :)**

I join my new fashion, the black clad Dauntlouis. When the last person has made their choice, it's time to leave. As I follow behind my new fashion, I look over my shoulder and see my parents one last time. I regret it immediately when I see my father's hurt face. My eyes well up with tears but I don't let myself cry. I'm supposed to be brave now, that's what my fashion tells me, and so I cannot cry.

The people behind me, Erodarte, push me forward, away from my parents. Cleanleb stands among them. He already fits in, and maybe I should be happy for him but he's betrayed us and joined the enemy. I want to throw up and I hope it's all over his face.

The crowd of Dauntlouis leading us head towards the stairs. I thought only the Abnegucci used the stairs. I start to walk down, one step at a time. But, then they all start running like wild animals. Some of them jump down. Some of them slide down the banisters. They are completely crazy and I kind of like it. I feel like Tarzan as I run down the steps and pound my chest with my fists. Thank god I chose to wear a bra today because I hate it when my boobs bounce up and down when I'm running.

I am breathless when we reach the first floor. I follow the Dauntlouis outside, but my legs ache and I'm trailing behind. Despite this, I feel so free, like a Dauntlouis. Abnegucci discourages running because it's done for enjoyment so I am highly unfit but yolo. I hear a familiar sound, the train horn calling my name, and the Dauntlouis start jumping onto the moving train. The transfers are the only ones left, waiting to jump onto the train for the first time. We start jogging alongside the train and then we jump. I'm weak and I'm clinging onto the handle and the wind is blowing in my face and I can't breathe and I'm going to fall and the train is going to run over my body and I start to have a panic attack. Then, a hand reaches out and helps me in.

Inside the train, the Dauntlouis have started to strip. Some of them are dancing on the poles in the middle. The girl who helped me inside looks at me and I look at her and we're both thinking the same thing. We're not taking our clothes off. She has short hair and dark skin and she's dressed in black and white. A Candior.

"I'm Christee," she says, offering her hand.

"Beadtris," I say, as I take her hand. I hope I haven't squeezed it too hard.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asks.

"Headquarters," I say, "but I don't know where that is."

"Does anyone?" She laughs. "It's like they just popped out of a hole in the ground."

"Actually, they popped out of a hole in their mother," an Erudite boy says. We all laugh.

I think about my own mother, and father. They will be having dinner alone tonight. I hate Cleanleb for leaving them. At least my parents knew that I wasn't selfless. They were prepared.

"They're jumping off!" Someone shouts.

The train slows down, and I see that the boy who shouted is right. The Dauntlouis are jumping out as the train passes a rooftop. They're jumping onto a freaking roof. They're crazier than I thought.

The idea of leaping out of a moving train onto a rooftop, over a gap, makes me want to puke. I will fall to my death. All the transfers are the last ones again.

"We have to jump off," Christee says, "or we'll fail." I nod at her.

Someone yells, "I'd rather be fashionless than dead!" But I don't agree. I would rather be dead than live a life of no purpose.

"Together?" Christee and I take stand at the edge of the car. As it passes the roof, we count. One. Two. Three. Then, we jump. And we're flying and we slam into the ground, on the roof. We start laughing.

"That was fun," she says. And I have to agree with her, crazy as they may be, the Dauntlouis know how to have a good time.

Everyone, but one, made it onto the roof. The transfers are peeking over the edge, looking at a body on the ground. When I see it, I want to cry, but I can't cry because I need to be brave. Dauntlouis do dangerous things and people will die because those things are crazy as fuck.

My knees sting and I lift my dress a little to check them out. The skin has been scraped, but I will live.

"A Sniff showing some skin!" A boy yells, and everyone's staring at me. He is a Candior boy, I think I heard them calling him Sheeter. I drop down my dress.

"Listen up! My name is Erip! I am one of the leaders!" shouts a man at the other end of the roof. He is pierced and tattooed and his clothes are ripped in many places. He stands on the ledge. "Below us is the entrance to our compound. If you can't jump off, you don't belong here. Initiates go first."

Jump off? From a ledge? I throw up in my mouth and swallow it down again.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?" Someone asks.

"Who knows?" Erip smirks.

No one looks eager to leap off the building. I take a deep breath. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm a crazy bitch now and I'm going to jump off this building. I feel brave. I walk toward the ledge and hear snickers behind me. They don't think I can do it. When I'm standing on it, I see that there is a square with a huge hole in it. I can't see what's at the bottom of it. But it looks like the door of a washing machine so I'm hoping there are clothes or something soft to cushion my fall.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention," says Erip, "You have to strip a little."

I am only wearing a dress and a jacket. I opt to remove the jacket and bare my arms rather than my whole body. I pull it off, and throw it behind me, at Sheeter. He catches it and starts smelling it. "You know, for a Sniff, you don't smell bad." What a jerk.

I look at the hole again. It's now or never. I don't think. I just jump.

I fall towards the ground and wind rushes up my dress and my hair blows all over my face and I'm thrown into darkness and I struggle to breathe and I hit something at the bottom. I bounce a little, and I realise that it's a mattress.

I look up at the building and laugh. I just jumped off a freaking roof. I'm trying to regain my breath but a hand reaches out and grabs me and pulls me off the mattress. The fall made me dizzy and I can't put my feet on the ground but his hands firmly grip me. Hot damn. He's a fine piece of specimen. I want his sperm to fertilise my eggs so our children can have his deoxyribose nucleic acid. Ha, I feel so smart. Suck that, Cleanleb.

His hands grip my arms until I'm steady and then he let's go.

"Thank you," I say.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Um…" I don't know why I hesitate, "Bee…"

"Bee?" he asks.

"No, I-"

"You can pick a new one if you want." New place, new name, new me.

"Tris," I finally say.

He smiles at me and hands me the first jumper.

Another person drops onto the mattress, screaming. I just know that it's Christee.

The boy sets his hand on my back and smiling, he says, "Welcome to Dauntlouis, Tris." I smile back at him. "Oh, by the way, I saw your underwear." I flush. A hot boy saw my freaking underwear.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hey guys, new chapter! I feel like this chapter is a little rushed so I do apologise in advance. Maybe I'm falling out of love with this idea. I don't know. But, I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**A**fter a lot more jumping, screaming and occasionally underwear flashing, we all line up facing the two Dauntlouis leaders. The hot one that saw my pants and another girl that looks a similar age to him.

"Listen up," the boy says, "Dauntlouis born initiates go with Lenoren, transfers you stay with me." After the group parts, he introduces himself. "My name's Four," he says, "I'm your instructor." Silent laughter erupts from the rest of the group. I look at Christee.

Christee and her big mouth will not end well I think to myself. "Four like the number?" She asks.

"Exactly like the number," he says.

"What happened? One, two, three were taken?" Oh god, I wish she would shut up.

"At least we know you can count." Ouch, apply water on burnt area. "What's your name?" he asks, now towering over her. Their height difference is a little amusing.

"Christee," she says.

"Well, Christee, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. This is not Candior." She nods and then gives me a smirk. I like this girl. I do not like Four. "Now, follow me."

At his command, we all follow like little stray puppies. I'm right behind him and he sure has a damn fine butt. The walls of the headquarters are made of stone and there are high ceilings with little light seeping in, making it hard to find my way. Four stops in front of me suddenly, and when I realise this I've already bumped into him.

"Careful Sniff," he says. I'm the only Abnegucci transfer here so I'm sure I'm going to get that a lot.

"Sorry," I say, sulkily. I wish people would stop calling me Sniff since I really don't smell that bad.

"We're about to go into the Pit," Four says as we continue walking towards the end of the longest tunnel ever. Finally, he pushes a set of double doors open and we walk into the place.

It's a huge underground cavern I can't see the other end of and it's just like the rest of the headquarters made of rock walls that rise several stories above my head. Panes of glass above us form the roof of the Pit and let sunlight through. And there are people everywhere, all dressed in black, shouting, talking, laughing, drinking, chanting, even stripping. There is something I find wonderful about Dauntlouis chaos.

"Keep up," says Four, "I'll show you the chasm."

He waves us forward. When he turns around, I don't peek at his little butt anymore. My eyes catch a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his T shirt and I wish he would take his shirt off so I could see what's under there if you know what I mean. It wasn't impossible. Dauntlouis do have a reputation of stripping.

Four leads us to the right side of the Pit, which isn't lit by the sunlight like the rest. I hear water, fast moving water that reminds me of the water that runs from the tap when my mother washes the dishes.

I look over the side of the railing. Far, far below us there is a river and I'm suddenly aware of the fact that this may be another stage of initiation. Are we supposed to jump?

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" Four shouts. I let out the breath I was holding. I hadn't seen any toilets so far. I wondered if people just pooped in the chasm. The sound of rushing water was really making me want to pee.

Four leads us away from the chasm, down another corridor and then we are entering a dining hall full of people and clattering silverware and FOOD! I didn't realise I was so hungry. When we walk in, the Dauntlouis start to applaud and stamp their feet and shout as if we're royalty. The party don't start will we walk in. The noise surrounds me and fills me. I could get used to this. For once, I think I'm finally fitting in.

Everyone takes their seat and starts feasting. Christee and I discover the only seats left are beside Four. She nudges me to sit next to him because he clearly doesn't like her very much. In the middle of the table is a platter of food glorious food. I don't even know what some of this stuff is. I'm surprised there no vegetables. I was kind of looking forward to some good old broccoli. I take the closest thing to vegetables, and that's triangular shaped dough with vegetables and tomato sauce and cheese on it.

"You've never had pizza before?" asks Christee, her eyes wide.

"No," I say. Pizza? What a weird name.

"Sniffs eat plain food," an Erodarte boy replies before introducing himself as "Wool."

Christee smirks. "No wonder you left," and I kind of agree with her. I already want pizza every single day for the rest of my life.

Four suddenly interrupts our conversation. How rude. "I don't want to hear you talk about your old fashions. You're Dauntlouis now."

All thoughts of being careful around him leave me. I don't care if he hates me. Haters gonna hate. "Were you a transfer too?" I ask, "Or Dauntlouis born?"

"What makes you think you can talk to me?" he retorts, "First a Candior and now a Sniff?" God, he is such a jerk. What is his problem?

"It must be because you're so approachable," I say flatly. Beside me Christee sniggers and Wool stops drinking, his cup titled halfway. He looks at me and says, "But that's none of my business."

"Careful, Tris," says Four. Then, he gets up and he disappears.

"You my friend have a death wish," Christee says, and we all start laughing. That was so awkward.

After dinner, one of the Dauntlouis leaders introduces himself. "Initiates, my name's Max. You have chosen the warrior faction. We believe in ordinary acts of cleanliness, in the courage that drives one person to double wash the laundry. I wish you all the best."

After that, Four leads us down another hallway stopping in front of a large door. "Behind this door is the room where you will be sleeping for the next few weeks." He leads us into a large room made up of enough beds for each one of us. It's then that I realise that the girls have to share a room with the boys. I will have to change in front of them. When I see the bathroom, I'm about to curl up into a ball and cry. I have to pee in front of everyone else too? I think I would rather pee in the chasm.

"Some ground rules," Four says. "Training will take place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch. You are free to do whatever you like after six but you are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntlouis." We all nod to say we understand. Butterflies start dancing in my stomach. At home, I could never do what I wanted, but now I could do whatever I like even though I don't know what I like.

Afterwards, we join the other Dauntlouis born initiates in the Pit to be briefed on initiation by Four.

"There are two stages of initiation; physical and mental. We keep transfers and Dauntlouis born initiates separate, but you will be ranked together."

Erip is there instead of Lenorel. "Your ranking serves two purposes," he says. "It determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation and also those who will get cut."

"What happens if we get cut?" Sheeter says.

"You live fashionless." A knot forms in my stomach. That was my worst nightmare and being the smallest and only Abnegucci here my chances were not good. I cry.

I remember the factionless man that tugged on my clothes.

I won't be him.

I will be a member of Dauntlouis.

I will.

"That's not fair!" someone shouts. "If we had known –"

"You wouldn't have chosen Dauntlouis?" Erip snaps. "Because if that's the case, you should get out now. If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail."

"You chose us," he smirks. "Now we have to choose you."

Back in the dormitory, I have successfully peed without being seen by using Christee as a curtain. She might be small but she's a good curtain and she didn't mind. All of my Abnegucci clothes had been discarded earlier as I changed into the clothes they gave us. I already miss the smell of soap powder. It was like losing a part of myself. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm think I'm still figuring that out.

I have never slept in the same room as a boy before, but I don't have a choice. Neither did I have a choice in changing in front of them. Sheeter made some remarks again about me showing skin so I flashed my boobs at him and then he shut up.

As I lie down, I close my eyes and think of home, and when I blink, a tear slips out. I cover my mouth to stifle my sobbing.

I can't cry. Damn you, Tris, do not cry.

But then I hear a strangled cat. Why the hell is there a strangled cat in our dormitory? Wait, it's not a cat, but the Candior boy next to me, Al. That was so unexpected. I feel disgusted that someone who looks so strong acts so weak. Shut up, Al. Pls. But he just keeps crying like a big fat baby and I just wish he would grow some balls and man up.

Dauntlouis don't cry.

I turn my head and try to sleep. I won't help him. I will never help him. I should comfort him because I'm Abnegucci. No, Four had said we're Dauntlouis now. That is why I don't help him. I'm Dauntlouis. I'm brave, and I don't cry.


End file.
